


The Contract

by TT40_Angst_Queen



Category: Supernatural, Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT40_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT40_Angst_Queen
Summary: As he signed the contract and sealed it with a sulfuric kiss, he didn't bother to read it; he just wanted his friend back.





	The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> Please Comment and Kudos!

**2007, April 21st, 11:50 PM, Bellingham Washington**

 

When Ryan was a young boy, and his grandmother was still alive, he used to sit in front of the old antique rocking chair in her living room and listen to her tell stories. Ryan loved the stories that she told him when he was younger, of adventures she used to have when she was younger; stories of ghosts, werewolves, and shapeshifters, of wendigos and witches, pagan gods and black dogs. She would tell him about how she would stop these monsters in her youth, calling herself a hunter, a hunter of the supernatural, saving people, hunting things. She told him it was the family business, before his mother grew to an adult, and renounced it. 

 

Ryan listened to years of his grandmother's adventures, soaking it all up like a sponge. He had a journal he took every time he visited and wrote down all he could. 

 

This went on for years before his mother had walked in while his grandmother was telling him his favorite story about a particularly strong witch, and freaked out. She had grabbed Ryan and told him to pack his bags, and that they were leaving, much to his protests. 

 

As Ryan packed, he heard his mother shouting at granny in the living room.

 

_ “He's just a kid, mum! I told you I want nothing to do with that life, and that you were to leave my kids out of it! Have you told his brother's, too? Does Robert know? Ronald?” _

 

_ “They deserve to know, to be ready to protect themselves and their family, Irene!”  _

 

_ “They shouldn't need to! They don't need to! They're safe because they aren't involved!” _

 

_ “We are a prominent hunter family, do you think that  _ **_they_ ** _ will forget that so fast? You kept our family name, how long do you think it will take for  _ **_them_ ** _ to find you?”  _

 

_ “We're leaving mum, and you're not seeing Ryan again, not anymore.” _

 

_ “Irene-” _

 

_ “My decision is final.” _

 

_ “Then may God protect your son's and their souls.” _

 

Ryan never did see his grandmother again. She had died a month later under mysterious circumstances, ripped to shreds in a locked house, the only clue being some sulfur left behind, and dog tracks in the garden.

 

But Ryan never forgot. He still had that book locked in his safe in his home, away from prying eyes. 

 

He remembered the stories.

And he remembered the ones about crossroad demons.  __

 

As frantically searched through his leather journal for the information he needed, his mind went to the image of his friend strung up in a hospital bed, in a coma, and on life support, the doctor's saying they had no choice but to take him of it tomorrow. It was hopeless.

 

As he stood at a crossroads and bargained the red-eyed self-proclaimed king of the crossroads for his friend's life, he didn't care that in ten years, in 2017 he would be dragged to hell and spend an eternity in torture.

 

As he signed the contract and sealed it with a sulfuric kiss, he didn't bother to read it; he just wanted his friend back.

 

He knew the outcome anyways. It was worth it all. 

 

“See you in ten years, love.” The Demon, Crowley purred. 

 

Ryan didn’t reply, and just watched as the demon disappeared into thin air, and as he heard the nearby church bell strike it’s midnight bell, announcing the dawn of a new day, he bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly, and swallowed. 

 

“Happy 48th birthday Ryan…” he whispered to himself. 

 

He wouldn’t reach 58. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**2017, April 22nd, 11:02 AM-Bellingham, Washington**

 

 

Dean was sitting in the bunker, sipping at his coffee.

 

“Sammy, where’s the newspaper!” Dean shouted, yelling at his brother who was once again holed up in the library.

 

“On the table, Jerk!” was the irritated reply, and Dean huffed. 

 

“Bitch…” He muttered under his breath, noticing the paper under, oh wow, another pile of books. 

 

Grabbing it, he read the front page before choking on the mouthful of Coffee. 

 

“Hey, Sam?”

 

“What Dean?” Sam’s irritated voice entered the room, and he turned to see his brother sit down at the table.

 

“Remember that show we used to watch a lot at night, that comedy one with the four performers and the host, it was all made up on the spot?” Sam nodded, smiling, fond memories of laughter and fun running through his mind.

 

“Yeah, we used to watch it before we went to bed, why?”

 

Dean showed him the paper, and Sam’s eyebrows rose in shock. He grabbed the paper from Dean’s hands and read it quickly, even though the headline pretty much gave it away. Sam finished and sat back in his seat.

 

“Wow, So he made a deal?” Dean nodded at Sam’s Inquiry, and took the paper and put it back on the table.

 

“Yeah, and get this, Ten years to the day, his friend, you know, the one he was really close to and ended up marrying, came out of a brain-dead coma, life support and everything, perfectly fine.” Sam let out a loud breath.

 

“God, the poor guy. I would have though for fame, but…”

 

“Yeah. Looks like I’m not the only one to make a deal for someone I care about.” Dean sighed. 

 

They sat in silence for awhile, thoughts running through their heads.

 

The paper lay forgotten on the table.

 

**Ryan Stiles, Dead Before Reaching 58**

 

**Mauled in Locked Home.**

**Author's Note:**

> Please Comment and Kudos!


End file.
